


London Calling

by fabricdragon



Series: The 2nd Sheriarty 30 Day challenge [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Apologies, F/M, Homecoming, M/M, Multi, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-Slash, Relationship(s), Sheriarty - Freeform, Sheriarty 30 Day Challenge, Tattoos, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s), jimlock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Following after Pirate King: Sherlock comes back to London to deal with everything that has happened while he was away.For those starting here? Charlie (Charles Jameson) is Moriarty;  John Sebastian is  Sebastian Moran and  Sherlock has been going by William  a great deal (William Sherlock Scott Holmes)





	1. Chapter 1

Mycroft was waiting as Sherlock cleared customs at Heathrow. He watched through the cameras as his agent moved up to intercept Sherlock, but Sherlock didn’t react the way he normally would–with irritation.

Sherlock identified the agent with a casual glance. “Oh, lovely, do get my bags.” Sherlock then turned and walked directly out to the car.

He slid into the car without so much as an annoyed look. _Not high; not drugged; carry-on having a laptop, a book, and a change of clothing; and YES, damn it, he’d gotten a tattoo somewhere_. Mycroft hoped to God he’d paid attention to the sanitation and safety for it.

“Good day, Mycroft.” Sherlock’s voice was neutral and pleasant with none of his usual snark or sarcasm… _What the hell?_

“Sherlock… you did rather alarm everyone.”

“Oh, nonsense, don’t exaggerate: most people never knew enough to be alarmed. I may have alarmed you slightly, but I suspect you were more annoyed than alarmed. Also, I called you almost immediately after I got settled.” Sherlock sat back in the car… and shut up.

Mycroft waited, but Sherlock said nothing–just looked out the window.

“You are acting very oddly… Are you quite alright?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes, I’m wonderful actually. Did you know that sex is inordinately better when it’s not a drug or alcohol-glazed experience in a filthy club–or a clean one, for that matter?”

“Since I was never inclined to drug- or alcohol-fueled sex in clubs with people I don’t know, I have no basis for comparison.”

“Yes, well… it is–much better, that is.” He looked out the window for a while again until Mycroft’s nerves finally broke.

“What HAPPENED? You are behaving entirely out of character!”

Sherlock looked over at him calmly. “I met the entirety of the game company–except Max, who never comes into the office; he has some severe medical issues of some sort–and I am happy to say they are all utterly delightful and intelligent people. I had a lovely chat with Charlie and we got matching tattoos. Later on, we sat down with his other boyfriend and did all the needed negotiating so that we are now a trio, or a triad, or a poly group, or whatever you choose to call it.” Sherlock looked thoughtful, “Oh, and the sex was fabulous, even though I haven’t recovered fully–I look forward to getting back once I’m fully recovered because we need to do a LOT more experiments with bondage.” And Sherlock went back to looking out the window and humming thoughtfully–Pirates of Penzance, if Mycroft wasn’t mistaken.

_Dear God._

Sherlock didn’t complain, huff, or roll his eyes when they got out at Mycroft’s house–simply unloaded his luggage and went inside. Mycroft was beginning to contemplate the actual possibility of pod people.

“Oh, Mycroft?” he said casually once the door was closed and locked.

“Yes?”

“Is your house as filled with cameras as my flat? Or can we talk?”

“My home is far too secure a location to permit active monitoring, Sherlock; I merely have an assortment of panic buttons and alarms I can trigger.”

“Lovely.” Sherlock was standing at the mantle looking distant. _Probably picturing his skull from at home on HIS mantle._

“What did you want to talk about?” Mycroft finally asked, as he realized that he honestly wasn’t certain.

“All cameras and listening devices need to be removed from my flat on Baker Street: panic buttons and alarms are perfectly fine, and I do expect outside monitors, but your CCTV cameras should suffice for that.”

“You can’t expect–”

Sherlock turned and looked at him. “That was not a request, Myc.” There was a hard confidence that had not been there before his travels.

Mycroft felt unsettled in ways that were hard to describe. “A good part of that monitoring was for your protection, and without John–”

“The only reason I didn’t overdose instead of going to New York, Mycroft, was that Charlie would be furious if I threw away his rescue attempt. I’m not about to throw away my relationship with Charlie and John now.”

“John?”

“Our third. Which brings me to John Watson… He’s been living with Mary, correct?”

“Lately, yes.”

“Have you bugged THEIR flat?”

 _I will now._ “No, there was no need to. Outside monitoring and–”

“Good. I need to speak to them–John, especially–in private, and it’s not your concern. This is personal.” _And you will not._

“YOU are my concern, little brother.” _Especially anything you don’t want me involved in._

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “I may be of concern, but settling my relationship with John Watson–and discussing our various failings, emotions, and other messy things of that nature–is not. If I require comfort afterwards I suppose we could sit together, drink scotch, and pretend we had any concept of what to say, but until then it is none of your concern.”

Mycroft stood there with his mouth open for several seconds. “You… appear to have… Yes, well, certainly your… emotional entanglements… with John are private.” _Good God, I have NO interest in getting involved in that!_

“Good. Now that that’s settled, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Err… certainly?”

“Can you sing?”

 _What?_ “I… can; I generally don’t–why?” _Somewhere I lost any sense of this conversation._

“I was watching Pirates of Penzance on the flight.”

“That explains you humming the tunes.”

Sherlock frowned, “So you are familiar with it?”

“Of COURSE, Sherlock: it’s a classic.”

“I have to be able to sing along to it and I had never seen it before.”

“Wait… if you never saw it before the flight why do you have to be able to sing along to it?” Mycroft’s headache was returning.

“Charlie and John were upset that I wasn’t familiar with it. I have to be able to sing along with them when we get back together.” Sherlock frowned, “I also have a list of other movies and musicals they think I should watch.”

“I seem to recall several people, including John Watson, asking you to watch television or movies with them and being rebuffed.”

“No one offered to fuck me into the mattress as a reward for doing so before,” Sherlock said casually. Mycroft found himself flushing and uncertain.

“In fact, I got a text from Charlie offering some rather specific incentives–”

“Good God, Sherlock, try to have some decency!”

“Why?” Sherlock frowned, “I thought you said it was just the two of us and we were not being recorded.”

Mycroft pinched his nose and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to know about your sex life except that you are taking reasonable precautions–”

“So there are, in fact, some parts of my personal life that are not your business?”

Mycroft winced. _Point, little brother_.

Sherlock smirked and raised an eyebrow. _Good_.

They ate a meal in what for anyone else would be silence, but there were dialogues of eyebrow raises and other gestures. It eventually became an argument–although a remarkably civil one for the two of them. They continued their argument after dinner verbally.

“I’m quite serious, Mycroft.”

“I’m afraid you will be hurt!”

Sherlock sighed, “So you want to hurt me first?”

Mycroft stared at him, “What?”

“You are convinced that my relationship with Charlie and John will be a disaster–that I will be hurt. HOW is your destroying that relationship keeping me from being hurt?”

Mycroft winced. _Logically, of course, it wouldn’t._ “I wish I had destroyed it before you started.”

“Then I would be dead.”

Mycroft flinched and ran through the options and when Sherlock had gotten so emotionally entangled… “If you hadn’t gone to New York–”

“Myc… in actual fact, that was almost inevitable. EVEN if John were unattached when I got home, the odds that he would accept a relationship with me at the level that I wanted?”

“Minimal.”

“And I would still have wanted to meet Charlie in person without being drugged or running for my life.”

“Poly groups are unstable–I have yet to see one work in the long term!”

“Statistically, all relationships are unstable–depending on how you define long-term.”

“Long distance relationships are incredibly–”

“Mycroft…”

“You can’t be seriously thinking of leaving London!”

“Yes, I am seriously thinking about it. The three of us talked about it, and there are problems no matter what. My family is here–both by blood and by choice: you, Mummy and Da, John, Mrs. Hudson… and Charlie’s family is there.”

“I understood he left his family.”

“I meant the game company and John–he has no relationship with any biological family.”

“Why…” Mycroft pressed his lips together in a firm line. “They could move here.”

“That’s just because you want to control them–and me–and, honestly, picking either of them up in one of your cars to threaten them in a warehouse would NOT go over well.” Sherlock sighed. “I suspect you may need to meet them–”

“Of COURSE I need to meet them!”

“–but I need to resolve some matters with John–John Watson–at least, first.” Sherlock looked thoughtfully at him, “And I need you to prove to me you can be… well, civil is the wrong word I suppose…”

“I worry about you.”

“Do you know Charlie and I discussed a lot–before I met John and we got a bit busy with other discussions–and he pointed out how much having an older brother had smoothed my path for me?”

“What?” _That was not what I expected to hear._ “He did?”

“Yes, but you also tried to direct me into your specific pattern–your ways of coping–and while we have a great deal in common, we are not identical.”

Mycroft sighed, “No, no we are not.”

“Stop trying to control my life, Myc: your choices may work for you, but they aren’t mine.”

“Very well… I… will try.” He looked pointedly at Sherlock, “If I see the slightest hint of drug use–”

“Call Charlie,” Sherlock said with an amused smile. “He’ll withhold sex.”

Mycroft closed his eyes and counted to ten. “And what are you doing about that while you’re here?”

“Likely nothing; my libido and interests are much lower than Charlie’s–truthfully, it’s a good thing he has John–but we have a policy for sex outside of our trio, so if needed–”

“You have… a policy…?”

“In the interests of not having trans-Atlantic phone calls at odd hours, we sat down with a pre-approved list–very short in all of our cases, actually–but we have protocols in place for emergencies or last minute problems: I insisted.”

“Enough!” _If I have to listen to any more of this, I’ll go mad._

“Not reassured that this has been thought through?”

“You got a tattoo!”

“Yes, yes I did… and I’m getting more.”

“That doesn’t seem like it was thought through!”

“That’s just because you don’t like tattoos.”

Mycroft shuddered, “Filthy things.”

“I assure you, I’ve done filthier things.”

Mycroft finally pulled his revulsion under control. “I want to see it.”

Sherlock just looked at him and undid the buttons on his shirt. In reasonable calligraphy it read, “Memento Vivari, Memento Mori”–Mycroft felt a chill.

“That’s… rather Moriarty, isn’t it?”

“Is it? I’ve always been fond of Memento Mori paintings and artifacts–I have a skull I speak to, after all. Charlie said he had considered just getting that part, but wanted something to remind him that life was, in fact, worth living as well. It seemed a good quote–especially for an addict.”

“Is he?” _He didn’t sound like it on the phone, and the background check showed no sign of it–although the background check was shot full of holes._

“Not to drugs–all three of us have our own issues, of course–we’ve survived.”

“When do I get to meet them?”

“Eventually,” Sherlock shrugged. “I have matters to deal with here before I can think about that.”

They sat in silence until Sherlock got up to go to bed.

“Your letters… especially the one to John…” Mycroft finally said. “It was…” _raw, brutal, self-dissecting_.

“The only option. Good night, Mycroft.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sits down for a talk with John and Mary

John Watson sat awake with a letter in his hand. It had been delivered by one of Mycroft’s people, and he had read it at least twice daily ever since. It was both extremely unlike Sherlock and something only he could have written.

 

John,

To begin with, the facts: You, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade were all going to be shot and killed unless I died–or appeared to. You are many things John, but a consummate actor and liar are not among them, and you, more than anyone else, would be watched. If you did not believe me dead–KNOW me to be dead–then people I care for would have died.

Your life was worth more than mine: a simple fact. I would do anything for your safety and I did.

The problem was that I did not understand what that would do to you. I won’t bore you at the moment with what I thought–simply point out that if I couldn’t comprehend my own responses, how could I possibly predict yours?

The first order of business was to find the snipers assigned to you three, the second to find the rest of Moriarty’s network and take it apart. I almost died several times in the course of this mission, and I learned a great deal about myself along the way…

Among other things, that I have grown accustomed to having people I care about. It’s a terrifying thing.

I had asked Mycroft to keep an eye on all of you for me, to ensure your safety–I should have remembered that he is no better at emotional understanding than I am, perhaps worse. I apologize that neither of us could come up with a better plan to keep all of us alive.

Now that I am out of the hospital and recovered enough to travel I have gone to meet someone who saved my life several times over. When that is concluded, I will be returning to London and I expect we will have an argument; I don’t care–you’re alive to argue with.

I am glad you found someone. I always chased off your dates because I was afraid you would leave me–I never had a friend before.

Sherlock

 

John’s lips quirked up again–nowhere in this letter did he come out and say “I’m alive” or “I faked my death”… because it was “OBVIOUS, John!”

_Sherlock wrote this letter, and Sherlock was alive: no one else could possibly have written this._

…

Mary opened the door one day and found Sherlock Holmes on her doorstep. She’d studied his pictures, but even if she hadn’t he was so EXACTLY like John’s description that she would have known him anywhere. _Great swirling coat with the collar turned up and those cheekbones… John’s descriptions hadn’t done his eyes justice, though: they flayed you like a scalpel._

“You must be Mary; I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“You had to be. Please come in.” She was hanging up his coat when John’s soft choked gasp caused her to turn.

They were looking at each other in a way that made her feel like she was intruding.

“I’m not sorry,” Sherlock said roughly, “but I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“I don’t know whether to punch you or hug you,” John admitted.

“Given that I only had the stitches out recently and I still have cracked ribs, I think a hug is a better option–a careful one.”

“What?” John walked up and touched him like he was going to vanish.

Sherlock leaned into his hand. “The one failure of a mind palace John–I could never quite touch you.”

John stilled, and then slowly the corner of his mouth pulled up again, “Oh, you were talking to me without my being there again?”

“You were always there, John.” Sherlock was looking down at him so intently; then he looked up and blinked, “We should go find a room and sit down.”

Mary led them into the living room and Sherlock shook his head, “Is there a room without outside windows? Or a room with fewer?”

Mary frowned, “The study?”

They went in there and Sherlock nodded, “Please, both of you sit down.” And he started methodically checking for bugs and cameras. “Mycroft said you weren’t under observation–except outside–but better to check.”

“Oh God, I’d forgotten about everything being bugged…” John sighed.

Sherlock got something out of his pocket and fastened it to the windows, attaching it by a wire to a small box before closing the blinds.

“What was that?” John asked.

“It will send random signals through the window panes to avoid remote pick-ups–it’s amazing what you can hear with a laser pick-up or directional microphone, really.” Sherlock sighed and sat down. The medical part of John’s mind noted the posture and some stiffness.

“You said hospital?”

“I was badly hurt–although it could have been worse–and the ribs still bother me.”

“Rib injuries hurt,”  Mary nodded.

“Especially with pneumonia, yes,” Sherlock nodded.

John hissed and then asked, “What happened? Why couldn’t you tell me…? I mean, your letter explained so much, but two YEARS?”

“I had rather foolishly thought it would be over with much sooner, John. When everything is ‘just one more mission, oh, that’s three more, but I have to get to that’ you don’t see how the time is sliding by.” Sherlock sighed, “But I need to talk to you both.”

“I was about to offer to excuse myself.” Mary smiled, “You have so much to catch up on…”

“No. I will not permit John to be married under false pretenses. All three of us will discuss this.”

“Uh… what?” John stared at him. “It’s a bit late to show up and chase this one off!”

“I have no intention of chasing her off, but I also want to be certain everyone is going into this with full consent.”

“I really don’t understand?” Mary smiled and looked puzzled at John.

“Nothing said in this room is to go anywhere, John, is that clear? I will not inform Mycroft, no one will call anyone.”

“Alright…” John didn’t understand, but he’d done this dance with Sherlock before. “I won’t talk about it, but I don’t understand?”

Mary was looking stressed. Sherlock considered that a highly stressed assassin was something to be defused immediately.

“I was in the room when you spoke with your ‘cousin Seb’, Rose–John and I are off-limits.”

John looked over in time to see Mary go momentarily white, and then suddenly there was a hard look he had never seen on her face. “You had better explain quickly, Mister Holmes.”

“Mister Holmes is my brother.” Sherlock sat back. “Sebastian told you I was alive, and would return soon. He put the call on speaker because I was in the room and he wanted me to hear it.”

John, in a deceptively pleasant voice, “I need to know what’s going on, immediately.”

Sherlock nodded, “Yes, you do. Mary Morstan is a retired assassin. She was assisted in getting this identity by Moriarty’s network. Sebastian was another person in that network, and called to verify that you, John, were not her target. She said that she was involved with you because she genuinely liked you–something I can confirm now, having seen her with you.”

John was starting to feel a bit odd, as though the room wasn’t quite… and it was rather hot… He blinked and Mary was trying to give him some tea.

“Shock,” he muttered.

“Probably… I’m sorry, John,” Mary said quietly.

“I would have preferred not to tell you, but… upon consideration, marriage built on such a faulty understanding of the other person couldn’t possibly be good for you.” Sherlock nodded, “If you are going to marry her it should be with a real comprehension of who she is.”

“He won’t. I’ve killed people–”

“So has John, so have I.”

“He’s nice.”

“So you said to Sebastian. Indeed, John is very nice,” Sherlock nodded. “I am rather protective of him–which was the point of threatening him after all.”

“Could­– Could both of you just… wait?” John finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

Almost unbelievably, they both shut up and let him pull his thoughts back together.

“Alright, I need to back this up a minute.” John took a deep breath. “Mary… worked for Moriarty?”

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “I took jobs without usually knowing who my employer was. I’m fairly certain I was hired by Mister Holmes at least once with my old team, but after we were betrayed and I was on my own?” She shrugged, “At least one job was his, yes: I got this identity for it.”

“But you weren’t dating me for that…”

“No,” Sherlock shook his head. “Certainly not for Moriarty–Sebastian would have known.”

“Maybe not,” Mary said. “Moriarty always kept things close, but as it happens, no; it was curiosity at first, I admit.”

“Curiosity about what?!” John was looking more like his usual self: frustrated and spluttering.

“Someone who survived laying hands on Moriarty? Someone Seb talked about with an admiring tone? Someone who could apparently keep up with someone Moriarty considered in his league?” Mary answered him, “And then… I liked you. I don’t generally like people.”

Sherlock chuckled slightly, “That was about my opinion, yes: I don’t generally like people–I like John.”

John shook his head slowly. “This… is going to take some getting used to.”

“John,” Sherlock looked at him very intently– _and God, he’d missed that look, like he was seeing right through you_ –“If you wish to continue your relationship with Mary, then by all means do so–but not with a lie.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you just because I had a girlfriend,” John finally said, referencing back to the letter.

“Girlfriends lead to wives and wives lead to having your own flat and not being available. I’m sorry, John, but I’ve always been extremely selfish and rather jealous.”

“What happened to ‘married to your work’?”

“Oh… That was just because I don’t generally feel sexual attraction.”

John choked on his tea–so did Mary. “What?” both of them said finally as John mopped tea off his lap.

“Sex was to pay for drugs, or to get a chemical hit from orgasm, or cooperation from a witness,” Sherlock frowned, “not for someone I wanted around me… I thought.”

“Do you understand that?” John asked Mary when he finished staring at Sherlock.

“Yes, I think so… A lot of agents use sex as a tool: it can mess up their real relationships.”

“In my case, I simply rarely find anyone to be sexually interesting.” He looked thoughtfully at John, “By the time I started to find you sexually interesting, we had an established relationship and you were emphatic about being not gay.” Sherlock looked at the two of them and shrugged, “My libido is also generally much lower than John’s, judging by his masturbation habits when we lived together.”

John flushed and remembered EXACTLY how awful certain aspects of living with Sherlock could be. “Sherlock, could you NOT talk about that without my permission? Please? It’s bad enough that you know how often I wanked without you telling anyone else.”

“You really weren’t exaggerating, were you?” Mary said with a sort of horrified whisper.

“Oh…” Sherlock winced faintly, “Sorry?”

“How would you like discussing your sex life with… with … Mycroft?” John said after groping for someone to reference.

“I rather had to, he disapproves of my lovers.”

John froze, “I thought you just said you didn’t have any?!”

“Oh, well, I HADN’T had any in some time, but while I was away I met someone who saved my life… they were responsible for my rescue this last time.” He glanced at Mary, “I was captured in Serbia; your swearing in Serbian was… unpleasant to hear.”

Mary said, “Serbia? Wait… those contacts in Serbia?” He nodded and her eyes widened. “You’re alive… That’s amazing!”

“I might not be if Charlie hadn’t called Mycroft. In any event… Charlie, John, and I are involved–his name is John as well and he and Charlie had a history together.”

John closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. “You were attracted to them? If I may ask…?”

“Oh, I wasn’t initially attracted to John–that was later. Charlie… almost immediately, in fact.” Sherlock looked aside and stared fixedly at the wall. “We each discussed permitted outside partners–they are in America, and calling transatlantic to get approval would be tedious. In any event, Mycroft doesn’t approve.”

“I wasn’t aware your brother had any say over it?” Mary asked.

“If John thinks I run people off, you should see Mycroft.” Sherlock smiled, “He kidnapped John, threatened him, and tried to bribe him to spy on me by way of a first meeting.”

Mary looked at John in alarm and John nodded, “True, he did. Had me driven to an abandoned warehouse… Didn’t tell me he was just an obnoxious big brother.”

Sherlock snorted, “He’s not JUST that.”

“Can… Can I give you a hug?” John asked.

Sherlock stood up. “Mind the ribs.”

John came up and hugged him, gently. Sherlock put his head on top of Johns head, “I did the best I could–I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“Yeah, well… You did–hurt me. It’s going to take time for me to forgive you, but I am so damn glad you’re alright.”

Eventually John let go and Sherlock stepped back, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“I’ll be moving back to Baker Street of course. I would very much like to see you.”

“Of course…”

“Mary?”

“Yes?”

“As long as you are no danger to John… my lips are sealed. Mycroft doesn’t know I found Seb, either–he officially died in Pakistan.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kill each other.”

Sherlock just looked at her and nodded slowly. “My main concern at this point is for people who were never hired to hurt John or the others, but who might do so out of misplaced loyalty.”

Mary nodded, “I’ll keep an eye out for trouble.”

“I’m right HERE you know!” John looked back and forth. “Not exactly helpless.”

Sherlock smiled, “No, no you aren’t. I hope to see you soon.” And he went and got his coat and was gone.

John started to collapse on the sofa but Mary dragged him back to the study. “We can’t talk near the front windows–and he left the scrambler in here for us.”

“I’m not used to all this spy stuff.”

“And that’s why he asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Who the hell is Seb?”

“He was going to pretend to be a distant cousin for the wedding invites… He was Moriarty’s chief sniper, as far as I knew.” She looked wistful, “Gorgeous man.”

“You two?”

“Never,” she smiled. “Not for lack of trying on my part.”

“So… retired for blindness?” he flashed the old grin at her.

She patted him on the shoulder affectionately, “Thank you.” She sat down. “I honestly thought you would have run after him,” she nodded at the door.

“It’s all a bit much to cope with,” he admitted. “Picturing him with two male lovers? With any lovers…? Well, I assume Charlie is male…”

“I assume so from the way he flirted with you.”

“What?”

“Umm… You didn’t… notice?”

“Notice what?” john stared at her with his eyes rather wide and panicked.

“Oh… He… I thought it was obvious when he talked about permitted outside partners: he meant you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have a talk. YES it's rather surreal.

Sherlock only made it through the tearful reunion with Mrs. Hudson because of his genuine fondness for her, but this amount of emotions in one day was exhausting.  He walked quietly through 221B looking at how things had changed.  Everything had been packed up for safety, and a cleaning crew sent through every now and then: he began uncovering furniture and unpacking. One of his brother’s minions had apparently restocked the cupboards.

Eventually– and judging from the passage of light and dark it was the next day, but he didn’t really care– he was sitting in his chair, looking at John’s chair, and he slipped into his memories and conversations.

“Sherlock? Honestly you need to come out of it.” John was sitting in his chair as he had been, but looking very solemn at him.

“Why?”

“Because it took me several minutes to realize you weren’t talking to me, but to some imaginary John in your head.”

Sherlock blinked several times and realized that John did have tea– he always had tea, John went with tea– but he also had some wrapped sandwiches from a shop somewhere.

“John? Oh, you’re actually here?”  He stretched and looked around. “You always make tea, but you rarely have sandwiches– usually toast.”

“You know, I had obviously not remembered how surreal conversations with you can be.”

“It is very likely the flat is still bugged, just so you know: I didn’t look.”

“So… can we have a personal talk?”

“As long as the business is… well between us? Then I don’t mind.  I simply don’t want anyone else’s personal details shared with my brother without their consent.”

John sat back and stared at him, “You really have changed a lot. I mean you used to make comments about Donovan and Anderson all the time!”

“Oh… them.  I don’t care about them; let my brother know all about what they do in their off time– I meant people I like.”

John started laughing, eventually he was wiping tears away  and saying, “GOD I thought I remembered you and I keep finding out I was only remembering parts… no one else could have written your letter and I knew that when I read it, but things like this… only you.”

Sherlock was frowning and trying to understand this rather incoherent ramble… “You aren’t making sense, John.”

John smiled at him in that fondly exasperated fashion he remembered so well, “Ordinary people remember things… differently than you do. When I remember things only a few things are intact: some things become clearer, some things fade, and some things change a little– it’s why they say you see the past with rose colored glasses, because people remember the good things more than the bad things sometimes. I hadn’t exactly forgotten how rude and self-centered you could be, but I hadn’t remembered it as clearly as I thought.  Statements like that… “

Sherlock held up a finger, “Wait… they’re things people might think, but wouldn’t say?”

“Generally, yeah.”

“Ah. Social norms; no I was never good at those– I don’t usually care.  Apparently I’m on the autistic spectrum, but equally apparently I don’t care to bother.  Charlie says it’s because I’m not just on the spectrum; I’m also a self-centered egotistical prick.”

John stared at him in shock for a beat and then fell over laughing.  Sherlock smiled at him, “So you had forgotten?”

When John managed to pull himself together he just said, “God I missed you.” then he snapped, “And don’t you DARE give me that line about how in the privacy of our flat you can call me Sherlock!”

“I don’t have to, you already did.”

“Argh!” John hurled a crumpled napkin at him. Sherlock snickered.

John handed him a sandwich and startled when Sherlock thanked him.

“I do know some manners; I just didn’t often bother.”

“Why now?”

“Traveling undercover… people notice.” Sherlock sighed and started eating the food, “I could always play a role, John; you’ve seen that. I’ve been unable to be myself for more than a few days at a time from the time I faked my death until I was rescued.” Sherlock slowed and looked thoughtful, “It changes you.” _Like being Charlie for so long changed Jim._

They ate quietly and it was like old times for both of them.

“Mary said… she thought you were flirting?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly? How are you ‘possibly’ flirting?”

Sherlock sighed, “Has it escaped your attention that I am terrible at things like this? I can act a role, but for myself?”

“Actually yeah I got that.”

“Sometimes… you interest me that way, but only sometimes.  The rest of the time you don’t, but you are always my friend: I care about you.” Sherlock struggled for words, “Charlie understood that there would be… that  there would be times when I would have no interest, but might have sex with him for the pleasure of an orgasm, or because it was a courtesy to him.  It’s why I am very grateful that things worked out well with… his John.”

John sat there very quietly for a while. “I’m not gay…”

“It seemed unlikely that you were.”

“I don’t even think I’m bi, exactly...”

Sherlock waited patiently– it had been difficult enough for him to understand his own attractions, it was likely difficult for John.

“I guess… maybe it’s safe to say you ‘interest’ me sometimes too… but I’m afraid that would ruin our friendship if we tried to be anything like lovers– especially since I’m not generally into men.”

Sherlock thought about it. “Charlie forbade either of us from having sex with any of the rest of the company– even though many of them are friends of mine as well– because of the concern that it would jeopardize the friendship or work relationship.”

“I’ve seen that kind of thing blow up really badly– it’s why so many places have no fraternizing rules.” John nodded.

“I do not wish to risk our friendship.” Sherlock sighed. “Not for something as trivial as sex.”

“Trivial?” John was smirking now. “You HAVE tried it, right?”

“Yes.  As I told Mycroft it’s considerably more enjoyable with people I care about.”

John blinked a lot. “Err… you had sex with people you didn’t... right … when you were a– when you were on drugs.”

“And these last two years, undercover. Sex is a useful tool, and I am reasonably good at certain forms of it– although apparently my experiences were more limited than I thought based on John and Charlie’s…” John was staring at him and flushed. “A bit not good?”

“Umm…”

“I… apologize.  I’m used to talking to you in my head; you were often the only one I could talk to other than Moriarty.”

“What?!”

“In my mind palace… you, Moriarty, my brother, a few others here and there…”

“WHY would you talk to Moriarty, of all people, in your head?”

“Perspective, usually.” Sherlock looked curiously at him, “You usually took the role of my ethical compass– I would talk to you and try to determine if you would be upset by my actions; Moriarty was usually the one pointing out the things I was afraid to admit to myself– what I wanted, why, and so on.”

“Oh… that’s… kind of weird.” John blinked a lot, but didn’t look upset.

“Is it?” Sherlock shrugged.

“So… you asked these other two for permission to have sex?”

“All three of us sat down and discussed what we expected of each other.  Each of us had a list of people we wanted pre-approved– for Charlie it was a very short list, for myself a slightly longer one, but I didn’t expect to actually do so.”

“You didn’t?”

“You, for instance… you had never once gone on a date with a man, and my libido seems to have been encouraged by recent events but is still likely lower than yours, and you were  involved with someone… having sex with you seemed highly unlikely.”

John was obviously trying to think about it calmly and not blush– _although the erection could be from interest as well as embarrassment, hmm._

He took a deep breath, “Yeah, highly unlikely, and even… I’m not cut out for… I know people who have open relationships and stuff, and…”

“It would not suit your interests?”

John looked thoughtful and apparently came to a decision, “Sherlock, you said you chased people off because you were afraid I’d leave you?”

“Yes.”

“I… you may have… Oh God DAMN this is hard.” John dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

Sherlock sat and studied and waited.

“You know the only family I have any contact with is my sister?”

“Yes. I had the impression you had no other close family.”

“I don’t.  My dad killed my mom in a drunken rage– it was passed off as an accident– and got himself killed years later in another incident.”

Sherlock stared at him, “I had no idea…”

“I have what people today call anger management issues.  The Army helped, a lot– discipline, you understand– and so did medical school… but… when I was younger I got in a lot of fights.  I’m fairly convinced that if I WAS in that kind of relationship, and got jealous? It would be a disaster.”

“This has to do with your father? His… anger?”

John smiled bitterly, “My father had a lot of anger management issues as well as alcoholism like Harry, but what set him off worse than anything was jealousy– he thought mum was cheating on him so he beat her: the last time she fell down the stairs after he punched her.”

Sherlock quirked a smile, “Charlie… apparently used to have a lot of jealousy issues– he’s better.  I obviously have them; so do you… apparently a trait common among those I find interesting. Peculiar.”

“Not a good trait to be attracted to.”

“You are not the only adrenaline junkie in the room, John.”

John laughed, “No.”  He continued more solemnly, “I don’t think, though, that I would want to risk our friendship for sex– trivial or not– and…I don’t think I could stand to be one of several.”

“You could never be ‘one of several’, John, you are unique… and I would rather die than lose your friendship.” Sherlock quirked a smile, “Which I believe I proved.”

“So we’re good?”

“We’re very good.” Sherlock ducked his head, “Would you like to talk to Charlie sometime?”

“I’d very much like to meet him, yes.” John got that determined look on his face, “Among other things if he doesn’t treat you right he better know how it will get.”

“I don’t think I need you to threaten him into staying–”

“I won’t blame him for breaking up with you, if he does, but he damn well better be good to you.” John looked apologetic, “You aren’t the easiest person to deal with.”

Sherlock tilted his head and got out his phone.

Charlie, are you up to talking to John Watson–W

“There, I sent a text.  The time zone differences are a bit–” the text alert chimed.

Depends, what have you told him?–C

That you and John and I are in a relationship and he was on my approved list. I’m in my flat which I presume my brother has bugged.–W

Sherlock waited. After a minute his phone rang.

“Hello Charlie, and thank you.”

“Blonds, nothing but trouble.”

“Isn’t our John blond too?”

“Yes, your point?”

Sherlock laughed, “I’ll put you on speaker.”  He did.

“John Watson,” Sherlock said with a flourish at the phone, “Charles Jameson– Charlie.”

“Hi John, William has talked a lot about you!” Charlie said, his pitch and rhythm and Boston accent nothing at all like Jim Moriarty.

“William?” John looked up at Sherlock with a questioning look.

“I was using William,” Sherlock nodded, “He knows my full name, but…that’s what I was using for most of the time we dealt with each other until I went to New York to see him in person.”

“Oh… um. Okay. Hi?”

“I look forward to meeting you some day,” Charlie said pleasantly, “Now let me guess, William has said a lot and given you next to no information?”

“You DO know him.” John found himself relaxing a bit, he sounded…normal. “Uh… do you know what you’ve gotten into with Sherlock?” Sherlock grinned at him and sat back.

“I have a pretty good idea, among other things his brother is an ass.”

John almost choked on his tea. “Oh, right… Sherlock said he didn’t approve.”

“If by that you mean did a background check on my whole company and insinuated I was a spy cozying up to William to get some kind of British intelligence secrets– yeah.”

“Oh my God, he didn’t!” John stared at the phone and then groaned, “No, of course he did– he kidnapped me and tried to bribe me to spy on Sherlock.”

“He told me… its, uh, one of the reasons I am NOT inclined to come visit William in London.”

“I… mostly wanted to make sure you weren’t… that you understood that Sherlock has friends and we worry about him.”

“I’m getting a long distance shovel talk?”  Charlie laughed.

“Pretty much,” John admitted, “Sherlock is not the best at taking care of himself– it’s kind of what I did: take care of him.”

“What is a long distance shovel talk?” Sherlock interrupted.

“Long distance meaning a long distance phone call: the shovel talk is when a friend takes the new date aside and threatens grievous bodily harm or murder if they hurt you physically or emotionally– from the implication that you will be buried in a grave they dig, and they already have the shovel.”

“Oh.” _Well, that made sense._

“I assure you, John, I have no intention of hurting William. I admit my experiences with long term relationships are a bit limited, but I think as long as we all remember to sit down and talk we’ll be okay.”

John was looking very oddly at the phone and then he smiled, “You know… I think you two are going to be fine.”

“Why do you say that?” Sherlock was terribly confused; he’d changed opinions very quickly.

“Just… the way he didn’t have a problem understanding you and he just explained and went on.  It suits you.”

Charlie chuckled, “First of all, we have a lot in common; secondly I practiced with Tam.”

“Tam?” John asked.

“Tam is one of Charlie’s friends and works at the company: they’re autistic and very…blunt.” Sherlock said after a slight pause.

“All the tact of a nuclear bomb,” Charlie said cheerfully, “and completely ruthlessly honest: it’s wonderful but I get used to it and then I have to go to finance meetings and all the polite lies and political considerations– GOD it gets frustrating.”

“I bet… Sherlock hates that kind of thing.”

“Given the talks I’ve had with his brother? I would expect so.”  Charlie paused and Sherlock could hear the sounds of something scratching– _pencil, nervous doodling_ – “So…  William explained our relationship?”

“Yes… and I’m on his pre-approved list.”

Charlie sounded rather hesitant, “I understood you were involved with someone…”

“I…” John glanced at Sherlock and looked around the flat a bit, “Having Sherlock come back kind of threw some things into that.  We agreed to step back and… see how it goes with the new information.  So, yes I am seeing someone, but it’s not as far along as I thought it was.”

“Oh… uh…is that good or bad?”

“It’s just a thing.” John smiled, “And no, I’m not going to take him up on that pre-approval.  We agreed it was too much of a risk to our friendship.”

Charlie breathed out suddenly, and Sherlock heard real relief– _jealousy, fear, oh_.

“Charlie,” Sherlock sighed, “I wasn’t going to leave you for John.”

“You… might have.”

“Oh GOD, we really ARE all jealous twits aren’t we?!” John laughed suddenly.

“Yeah…” Charlie muttered, “I’m better; I didn’t have a scene at the airport sending him back to London.”

Sherlock laughed, “No, you just threatened me if I didn’t memorize Pirates of Penzance!”

“Why did he want you to memorize that?” John asked with a confused look.

“He’d never SEEN it!” Charlie’s voice got vehement on the line, “We quoted lines and he didn’t KNOW them!”

Sherlock broke in immediately, because the  way he emphasized words when he got upset was a bit too much Jim, “Yes, well I did… and you’re quite right it’s a very interesting  musical– did you know there is a periodic table song set to the music?”

The continued their conversation as if all three of them had known each other for years– which in an odd way they had, not that John knew that– until Charlie had to get off the phone for a business meeting.

John went and made up a fresh pot of tea.  After he came back and they’d had a bit he asked about John– Charlie’s John. “Is he  a lot like him?”

“No, John isn’t much like Charlie, really.” Sherlock looked thoughtful, “He’s…” a smile stole over his face, “a pirate.”

“You mean like music?” John asked puzzled.

“I mean he has a pirate coat that he insists on wearing despite it being a ridiculous affectation– he just does it because he thinks it looks cool.”

John grinned suddenly, “Turns the collar up and everything?”

Sherlock sniffed, “No, but he wears boots and carries a lot of leather and smiles at people with a crooked grin. He also owns a boat.”

“Oh, well then.”

“I think you’d like him.” Sherlock said after a bit. “I don’t know if you’d LIKE Charlie, but… he can be a bit odd.”

“You’re a bit odd, and I like you.” John looked around  at the flat and back at Sherlock, “I don’t know how things will go with Mary– it turns out there is an awful lot on BOTH sides getting brought up by this; things we should have known about each other before it got this far.”

“Then it’s better to get it settled, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Thank you for that, I mean it.”

“Better than that… what was her name, Michelle? Vegetarian, smoked, wanted you to give up leather shoes and caffeine…”

“Ohhh yeah, her…” John smiled and shook his head, “That wasn’t going to last, no.”

“Certainly not, you are practically synonymous with tea.”

John had to leave not long later, but Sherlock was certain that their friendship would survive even if he wasn’t actually living on Baker Street anymore.

You didn’t need to be jealous. I’m not letting you go again–W

John was always my competition–C

You don’t have any competition–W

I just don’t want him harmed–W

Why did he say no?–C

Friendship is worth more than a chance on sex–W

There was a longer than usual pause before the reply.

True.–C

And then: I’m glad I got both–C

Always. I’ll be back in New York as soon as I can–W

Sherlock picked up his violin. He’d missed it; the violins he’d acquired and lost over his time away hadn’t been HIS violin. After a brief warm up he began to play, wondering how to merge two homes: London, and Charlie…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of London Calling, but not the end of the saga  
> Pre-slash Mystrade ~ Sherlock talks to Molly

Sherlock sent the message to Lestrade to meet him at Baker Street. Everything he had to say to Greg could be overheard by Mycroft–if he’d removed the bugs, it had been done in the few minutes he’d been visiting Mrs. Hudson, so he assumed the flat was still bugged–which, in fact, would be the easiest way to resolve this.

“It’s… an insane relief to see you, you know,” Greg said standing there, looking like he’d aged ten years.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much trouble this would cause for you.”

“I’d be out of a job if it wasn’t for Mycroft, but… that wasn’t your fault–more that Moriarty/Brook guy.”

“Moriarty,” Sherlock nodded, “and a great deal of that is my fault, and some is Mycroft’s, and the rest is… sadly… collateral damage.” He sighed, “Please sit down, Greg.”

Greg blinked. “Well, damn, you can say my name–I was beginning to think it was a curse or something: ‘Can’t say the name Greg’.”

Sherlock smiled faintly, “Of course, Gary.”

They sat quietly with some of Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits and tea. “Again, as I said in my letter, if I had any other solution I would have used it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“In any event: here.” Sherlock handed him a file folder and a thumb drive. “That’s everything it should take to prove most of the cases that were being used against me. I collected the evidence as I could.” He looked thoughtful, “Oh, and a few solved cold cases in there for you as well: I hope it helps get your position back.”

“I doubt, honestly, that my superiors want me back as DI. I think they’re hoping I’ll quit.”

“Then allow me to make a suggestion, Greg: go talk to Mycroft.”

“I don’t want him getting me a promotion on his say so!”

“Actually, I was suggesting you ask him out on a date–he’s remarkably dense for someone so intelligent.”

“What?!”

“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, “ Sherlock shrugged, “and Mycroft is NEVER going to make the first move, seriously; or rather, he thinks picking you up in a car and not threatening you is flirting.”

Greg had started to stand up and then collapsed back in his chair. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all,” Sherlock said looking at him thoughtfully. “You’d make an acceptable brother-in-law.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Greg sputtered, “Where would you get the idea–”

At this point the sound of an outraged Mycroft coming up the stairs became apparent.

“Flat is still bugged, I see,” Sherlock said calmly.

The door burst open. “Sherlock! This is unconscionable! I have to work with Gregory!” Mycroft snapped at him. “The ‘separated from his WIFE’ Gregory!”

“Sherlock, I’m, uh… glad you found someone, but… your brother isn’t interested in me, really,” Greg said with a self-deprecating flush.

“Of course he is, he just thinks you can’t be interested in HIM.” Sherlock shrugged. “Everyone forgets bisexuals and pansexuals exist in any case. Mycroft, just because his last relationship was with a woman doesn’t mean his next one has to be.”

Mycroft glared at him, “I fail to see where you get the idea that Gregory would be remotely interested–”

“Mycroft? His main protest was that YOU wouldn’t be interested in HIM. What may we deduce from that?” Sherlock stood up and grabbed his coat, “From my own experiences of late: tell him you’re interested, point out the fact that you are even more jealous and controlling than I am and how he will never have an unsurveilled conversation again as long as he lives, and go to dinner, will you? I have to go talk to Molly.”

He walked out and went to find a cab, making sure the grin didn’t escape until he could conceal it from the CCTV cameras. He texted Charlie: Project melt Antarctica underway.–W

He was most of the way to Barts before he got a reply. I’ll believe it when I see it–he’s made of metallic hydrogen.–C

Sherlock smirked and went in to find Molly.

He knew he’d found her by the clatter as she dropped things.

“Sherlock! Oh, uh… I was waiting… but you… and….” She trailed off looking down at a mug and the remains of coffee. “Uh… hi?”

“Hello, Molly. How about if I get you coffee for a change?”

“What?” she said staring at him with that insanely annoying dumfounded and nervous look.

“I’ll be right back.” He went out and got two cups of coffee and gave her time to pull herself together and hopefully clean up.

He walked back in. “Here, I believe that was how you took your coffee when I left.”

She took a sip of it with a nervous air as though it might be poisoned and then looked surprised, “That’s right? You remember how I take my coffee?”

“We… desperately need to talk Molly, and I can’t be certain the morgue isn’t bugged–my brother should be busy about now, but recordings are recordings.” Sherlock sighed. “Can you take your break now?”

She nodded with wide eyes and followed him. He went down to the laundry area and leaned against the wall to the supply closet where they kept detergents and so on. The sound of industrial washers and dryers running, and people talking in various languages–mostly complaining about their pay and their children–made this a very safe place to talk.

“Why are we in the laundry?”

“Why would anyone bug the laundry? And any of the assorted spies would stand out: they’re usually white and English.”

“We do, uh, stand out.” She ducked her head, “You think we’re being spied on?”

“I KNOW Mycroft is spying on us, and I don’t want him hearing any of it, but it stands to reason he might not be the only one.”

“Oh. Well…. What did you need to say? Your letter was… kind of cryptic.”

“The letter to you had to be, but you were the only one to get a letter who knew I was alive–I sent one to John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade as well.”

“Oh…” She chewed her lip, “Do you think they will forgive me?”

Sherlock blinked a lot, “Why would they blame you?”

“John was hurting, they all were, and I knew… I helped you! But I couldn’t say anything…” Molly suddenly broke down in tears, “I hated it! I couldn’t stand it! I… I turned in my notice already… I would be gone but they couldn’t find anyone to replace me… I think that’s Mycroft….” She stood there with tears running down her cheeks, turning blotchy and puffy.

Sherlock felt like he was being knifed. “Oh, Molly… I’m so sorry… I had… I had no idea…I didn’t think…” He slid down the wall and ended up sitting on the floor. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Sherlock?” Molly wrung her hands and thought about calling for help, but eventually sat down next to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop being sorry, Molly. You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry.” Sherlock’s voice sounded rough, “Of all the things I thought I’d done to hurt you that… wasn’t one of them.”

“Oh…” she swallowed, “it was the hardest part. To see everyone so hurt…”

“Mycroft wouldn’t notice. He’s worse than I am.” Sherlock sighed, “He didn’t even realize how badly off John was–or if he did, he had no idea how to deal with it so he just… hoped it would go away.”

“Oh,” she said again and then sniffled and wiped her face with a crumpled handkerchief she pulled out of a pocket.

“There was a lot I wanted to say, but… I think I was worried about the wrong things.” Sherlock sighed again, “You were leaving?”

“Yes. I’d given up waiting for them to find a replacement. I was… I had this silly idea of running off to forget…”

“Do you actually like him?”

“Errr… What makes you think… Never mind.” She sighed. “I guess? He… He doesn’t ask me about you, or talk about London when he isn’t here. He’s… He’s not associated with any of this. It’s just… boats and beaches–”

“–and mermaids and sex,” Sherlock finished for her.

“…Wow, I had forgotten how good you are at that.”

“I’d love to take credit for it, but… I met John–the author? Your pirate.”

Her eyes went utterly huge and she felt queasy. “You MET him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… really… weird.”

“Not as weird as you think.” He picked his head up and took her hands, “Molly…I won’t ask you to do this, but I will suggest… Do not mention him to anyone–well, no more than you do already–but… if you think that’s a relationship you might want to explore, go meet with him, but not as a fling: be prepared to ask a lot of questions and find out a lot.”

“He’s a serial killing psychopath, isn’t he?” she said sadly. “I only fall in love with sociopaths and psychopaths.”

Sherlock couldn’t help the quirked grin. He kissed her gently on the forehead, “Not exactly, but he’s a pretty nice one as such things go, and I think he really likes you.”

“I should have known.” She sighed. After a while, she asked, “You think he actually likes me? Because… I mean, you… and Jim…”

“I like you a lot, Molly, I’m just… I’m not really interested in sex very often, I’m more interested in men than women when I AM interested, and emotions make me twitch.” He shrugged, “I’ve gotten better?”

“Oh,” she said again, not having any idea what else to say.

“I think Jim liked you too, otherwise you would have had a sniper on you like John and the others. For Moriarty that’s practically a declaration of undying love, really…”

“I just thought I was unimportant.”

“Molly… of all the things you are, unimportant isn’t one of them.”

They sat quietly for a while.

“I was going to meet him in Bermuda,” she said.

“I know.”

“Is… Is it safe?”

“Perfectly safe, assuming you don’t taunt any sharks or go off on your own as a tourist.”

“I mean him.”

“If he hurt you I would kill him,” Sherlock said solemnly.

“Oh.” She thought about it, “That’s… sweet.”

“You are very precious to me, Molly, it’s just… God, this is difficult…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I am NOT a nice person, and I have no idea how to BE a nice person–that’s what I had John Watson for...”

“I kind of got that.”

“You… need to learn to stand up for yourself, otherwise people like me are going to just run over you, all the time.” He sighed, “At least Sebas–John–is less inclined to.”

“…Jim didn’t run over me.”

“Jim was playing a role: he manipulated you badly–he just did it differently. If you had dealt with him as anyone but Jim from the IT department, he would have run over you just like I do–get me my coffee, and only paying attention to you when I want something.” Sherlock sighed, “Time changes everyone–I hope I’m better than that now.”

She gulped. “I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll talk to everyone about you. I already apologized a lot: I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

“You think… I should take that vacation to Bermuda?”

“I think you should. I think you need to know more before you make a decision.”

“But you won’t tell me?”

“Not here, not now, and honestly I think you need to talk to him first.”

She nodded. He stood up and gave her a hand up.

“So… you really are gay?”

“Grey sexual? Demisexual? Mostly Asexual?” he shrugged, “I’m not attracted to the body, except as scientific curiosity.” He chewed on his lip and finally said, “I’ve only had sex with a woman once, and honestly I didn’t enjoy it very much, but I didn’t enjoy the sex with a lot of men, so statistically that’s–”

“Uh… Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“TMI.”

“A bit not good?” he said with a grin.

“I was mostly trying to ask if you could be interested in me, that way.”

“Probably not.” He tried to look apologetic, “I could have sex with you, in some fashion, but…” he looked thoughtful, “It probably wouldn’t be awful? Which is better than I can say about most people.”

She stared at him, “Your letter said you had a boyfriend?”

“Charlie. He is very understanding of my point of view despite his higher libido. Also luckily he is someone who interests me enough to make sex enjoyable–very, in fact!” Sherlock brightened up. “Sex with him is MUCH better than it has been with anyone else–I actually look forward to it and have noted a distinct upsurge in my–”

“I’m happy for you, but um… I have to go back to work and um…” She was fidgeting desperately.

“Yes, masturbating in a closet at the hospital is considered tacky.”

“Oh, God…” She clapped a hand over her face. “You knew about that?”

Sherlock flushed faintly, “No, but John talked about the proclivities of medical personnel a great deal. Let’s not talk about sex anymore.”

“Ever!” Molly nodded frantically and scurried off to work.

Sherlock just sighed and let his head fall back onto the wall. “No luck in that, Molly–see you in Bermuda…”


End file.
